


This Time

by Mareel



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/pseuds/Mareel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love and loss... and finding their way back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_moonmoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_moonmoth/gifts).



>   
> This was written for the 2005 Entficathon on LiveJournal, where the request was for an AU Archer/Reed story where Jon's relationship with Malcolm comes as a surprise to him, and where the two of them overcome some obstacle to be together. 
> 
> It's woven around late Season 3 events, though some events and timeframes are altered. General familiarity with canon S3 is assumed.
> 
> My deepest thanks to evilleaper and kayjayuu for their insightful beta readings and all their encouragement from the start, to kipli for listening to me bouncing plot ideas around, and to the_moonmoth herself who unwittingly helped me get through this.

### Part 1

 

####  **_Personal Log – Malcolm Reed (14.02.2153)_ **

  
I've lost him... again. He promised he was coming back. Not like Jon at... at Azati Prime. _He_ knew he wasn't going to be back when he kissed me... and wouldn't say anything. Jonathan said he had no intention of dying on that weapon. I don't know whether he was trying to reassure me... or if he really believed he'd make it out. I want to believe the latter. But either way, I've lost him... again. And this time... it was _me_ who never told _him_.

 

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


#### **Six weeks earlier, near Azati Prime**

I wasn't sure what to expect when I led Acting Captain T'Pol and a security team through debris-filled corridors to the docking port. A small vessel of Xindi design, reading one life-sign, had just been brought aboard _Enterprise._ Having just barely survived a brutal attack by Xindi Reptilians, my suspicions were running rampant. This could well be a weapon, or perhaps carrying a Xindi on a suicide mission.  
  
Circling the vessel, thinking that it resembled nothing so much as a coffin, I scanned it for possible detonation circuitry. I didn't find any of that, but I did locate a mechanism for opening the thing. When the top was lifted, I quickly glanced into it, my eyes drawn immediately to the battered face of the man it contained. I know my breath caught when I saw that he was breathing, and I didn't even try to bite back my first response.  
  
"That bloody bastard lied to us! He told us the Captain was dead."

__________________________________________

As soon as I could get repair teams organized for critical systems in the Armoury and at the tactical station, I hurried to sickbay to check on how Jon was recovering from what must have been an ordeal on Azati Prime. When I didn't see him on any of the biobeds, I cornered Phlox, who told me he'd sent him to his quarters to rest and recuperate, with sickbay visibly overflowing with the critically injured. He asked if I would do him the favour of checking on the Captain, making sure he was resting comfortably.

"His injuries were serious but not life-threatening... several broken ribs, a bruised kidney, multiple head and facial contusions, and some disorientation. I don't believe he is suffering from a concussion, however. My scans don't show any evidence of it and I managed to keep him here long enough to observe him well enough, but he does seem to have some memory loss around the time of the incident. Not unexpected, given the torture chamber he described to me and the treatment he received at the hands of his captors.

"Please stay with him as long as you can, Lieutenant. He is more than likely going to want to be up and about the ship, but he'll be no help to anyone until he regains some strength. One can't even walk through most of the corridors without lifting debris out of the way. But I practically had to order him onto 24 hours medical leave. Hmmm... that he didn't argue more about it than he did told me that he most certainly needed it."

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **_Personal Log: Jonathan Archer_ **

I never expected to be here making another log entry. I was certain that was going to be a one-way trip to Azati Prime. Now I feel nearly as helpless as when I was a prisoner of the Xindi. Phlox tells me I'm lucky to be alive. Goddamn it, why the hell _should_ I be when at least fourteen of my people are dead... _Enterprise_ damn near crippled... defenseless. And the goddamned weapon is still out there.

Damage is extensive... everywhere. I should be out there assisting with repairs, not sitting here nursing a few minor injuries. Phlox managed to take the edge off the physical pain, but the drugs don't do a damn thing for the rest of how I'm feeling right now.

I should be glad I got out of that torture chamber alive, or at least grateful that Degra, with his Arboreal counterpart, intervened with Dolim and agreed to take it up with the Council. I guess Daniels would consider my trip to Azati Prime a success. But right now, I can't see it that way. I just feel numb.

I don't know what else to say right now. 

End personal log.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


I let myself into his quarters. I thought he might be sleeping, and didn't want to disturb him. He'd given me the door codes some time ago, though I usually still pressed the door chime before entering, simply as a courtesy.  
  
"Lieutenant? Malcolm?"  
  
He sounded surprised to see me; perhaps he thought I'd be too busy with repairs to come here tonight, though he should know me better than that. He was sitting on the bed, propped up against his pillows, PADD in hand; his voice was quiet but not sleepy. I'm sure I smiled at him, so glad to simply hear his voice again, after everything that had happened. Before I could tell him so, he continued.  
  
"I didn't hear the chime. Maybe I was drowsing a bit. Phlox did say I needed to rest, but... needed to get through these damage reports."  
  
He glanced down at the PADD in his hands, then looked up at me again.  
  
"Did you come to bring me an update?"  
  
It seemed to me that all of that could wait until after we'd had a proper reunion.  
  
"Not officially..."  
  
I crossed the few steps to the bed and sat down on the edge of it beside him. Mindful of his bruises, I reached up and draw his head closer to mine. Without a word, I simply kissed him softly.  
  
He was returning the kiss. I felt it... for a moment... before he pulled his head back sharply and looked at me like he'd just done something unthinkable, or I had.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
The question was in his eyes as well as on his lips. His next words were soft, hesitant... almost as if he wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming.  
  
"... am awake, didn't fall asleep. But then, why the hell... Malcolm?"  
  
"Jon? What's wrong... did I hurt you? So bruised..." I looked up to meet his eyes. "I know you're supposed to be resting. But I'm off shift, too... and after the last attack we did agree that, since I spend so little time there, my quarters could be used to house displaced crew until repairs are completed... though now it will take even longer... "  
  
"Wait... you spend so little time there? Then where do you..."  
  
Now he was frightening me. Phlox had mentioned some memory loss around the actual torture experience, but nothing about more extensive amnesia.  
  
"Jon? I think you'd better tell me what you remember about things. Dr. Phlox said he thought you might have some short-term memory loss, but that it might come back...”  
  
I reached over to lightly rest a hand on his forearm, a familiar gesture between us, one that was always a silent promise of comfort and understanding. He looked at my hand like he'd never seen it there before, but didn't pull away.  
  
He licked his lips slowly before replying. I thought he might be thirsty and handed him a glass of water that was on the nightstand. He sipped at it, obviously trying to collect his thoughts. When he began to speak, the words started slowly, then gained assurance.  
  
"I remember the mission... the planet... Azati Prime. Needed to destroy the weapon. Failed though. Captured. Fucking Xindi bastards... beaten... torture..."  
  
My heart was aching for him as he struggled with those memories, watching him raise a hand to touch the bruises and cuts on his temple, his lip. But when he started speaking again, his tone was fierce, almost triumphant.  
  
"It was Dolim and his Reptilian cronies... seemed to run the place. Didn't tell the bastards anything they wanted to hear. Let them think there's a whole fleet of us. They seem to think there might be, but didn't quite believe me... kept threatening more torture... until I demanded that they let me speak to Degra, show him the token, make him at least hear me out..."  
  
I didn't want to interrupt him; he was remembering important parts of his experience, but it wasn't quite fitting together.  
  
"Degra? Who's Degra? What token? I'm not sure I'm following you, Jon. Take your time; it's coming back to you. Don't push too hard. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
It was Jon's turn to give me the 'where the hell have you been for the last month' look.  
  
"Degra? You remember Degra... Humanoid Xindi who gave us the coordinates for Azati Prime. You must remember our little stratagem... how Phlox altered his memories and we built – you and Trip built – that simulator in the cargo bay."  
  
I was completely confounded by that, and began to wonder if the memory loss was mine. Surely if Trip and I had built any such thing, I'd have some recollection of it. Before I could say anything, he continued to talk about the incident.  
  
"God knows we had to try it a couple of times before we got anything useful from him, but he and I did get to know each other a bit. Of course when I saw him down there he couldn't remember us ever meeting before.”  
  
My face must have been a complete blank, because his words started tumbling out, almost as if he were trying to convince me, or himself, that his memory was intact and accurate.  
  
"And the token? I know I mentioned that to the senior staff... that Daniels showed up when Trip and Travis were getting that shuttle ready for me to take down to Azati Prime... that he tried to tell me I needed to make peace with the Xindi, not destroy them. Gave me something to show Degra... evidence that Xindi and humans worked together in the future... and you don't have any idea of what I'm talking about, do you?"  
  
I shook my head, and laid my hand on his arm again, rubbing softly this time. Phlox would have my head if I got Jon agitated when he'd told me in no uncertain terms that he needed to rest. I tried to choose my words carefully.  
  
"That isn't the way I remember it. You did mention seeing Daniels, yes. And that he gave you something, and wanted you to make peace with the Xindi. But you had no intention of doing anything of the sort. And I didn't think you'd ever met any Xindi except Gralik... the Arboreal who helped us by sabotaging the kemosite shipment from his refinery."  
  
I searched my own memory of our visit to that facility. My hand was still resting on Jon's forearm, and I could feel the small tremble that spoke volumes of how this was affecting him. But I could see no way to soften what I had to say.  
  
"Gralik might have mentioned someone named Degra... the one in charge of the weapon design, I think. Or a member of the Xindi council. But I have no recollection of ever meeting him, or of you ever meeting him. You told us that you informed Daniels that you saw no way you could possibly make peace with them."  
  
His eyes searched mine, almost pleading with me to confirm his memory of events, but I couldn't.  
  
"Degra... Degra was the key. I learned things about the man when we had him here on the ship! I knew enough about him to get him to trust me just a little down there... just enough to save my life, probably. I knew the name of his wife, the names of his two children... and the name of an unborn child he lost. That last bit clinched it; he finally believed me."  
  
I tried to keep my voice calm, though I had little hope that it would help.  
  
"Jon, it never happened... not that way."  
  
Jon would normally start pacing at a time like that. It must have been the injuries that kept him where he was, just shaking his head. I was the one to get up and pace the small room. Both of us were silent. My thoughts were circling back around everything I could remember of the last few days, not understanding how, if his memory was intact, we could have such different recollections of fairly recent events.  
  
I never trusted Daniels. I didn't think Jon ever trusted him much either. When Jon told us about that last visit from him, he said Daniels told him that this mission _must_ succeed, that his parting words were that Jon should do what he had to do, and _he_ would do the same. I wondered for a moment if his interference hadn't ended with that talk with Jon.  
  
I turned back to face him, leaning against his desk, trying to walk us both through even more recent events. The risk of upsetting him by talking about it seemed a lesser evil than to leave him questioning his memory. I took a deep breath and plunged into it.  
  
"We thought you'd been killed. The Reptilians who attacked the ship... their leader told us that with great pride, told us that he'd seen to it himself. I had no reason to either doubt or believe him, but when you didn't come back... we all feared it was true."  
  
I felt my voice start to break, and I crossed my arms tightly, as if trying to wrap myself away from my own vulnerability. I barely realized that my recounting of events had become personal.  
  
" _I_ was afraid it was true. I was sure I'd lost you. I wished again and again that I'd argued with you about going down there alone. It should have been me on that mission, Jon. But I didn't want our last words to be an argument; I knew I wouldn't win it. You let me walk with you to the shuttle. When we got there, you kissed me hard... fiercely... but you didn't try to tell me you'd be back. We both knew better."  
  
My voice did crack then, and I had to pause. Jon's voice broke into the silence, his words tumbling out.  
  
"I _kissed_ you? But I went to the shuttle bay _alone_. T'Pol was trying to dissuade me and I shook her off. Malcolm, it's true you didn't say a word when I announced my plans to pilot that shuttle. I was more than half expecting you to protest. It wouldn't have made any difference, but I'll admit to worrying a little when you didn't say anything... except with your eyes... your face and body language..."  
  
I was watching both his face and his body language now as he tried to make sense out of what clearly seemed impossible to him. My hand fell away from his arm as he lifted it to cradle his face in his hand for a long moment. Then he shook his head slowly.  
  
"I _kissed_ you? Malcolm... something is wrong here. I kissed you? You _let_ me?"  
  
He was following my words to their most likely conclusion, his eyes searching mine for an explanation he could comprehend or accept.  
  
"And you... you just said you don't spend much time in your quarters... not even to sleep, apparently. A few minutes ago you let yourself into my quarters. Do you... are _we_... ?”  
  
His voice dropped from agitation to a quiet, almost desolate tone.  
  
“God, something is very wrong with my memory, Malcolm. I would have thought that the last thing I'd _ever_ forget would be a relationship like that... with you.”  
  
The pain in his voice became unbearable. I had to move back to the bed then, had to sit down next to him, closer than I'd been sitting before. I reached up to brush a strand of hair back from his injured forehead, my fingers touching his cheek very lightly afterward. I laid them across his lips as he started to speak again.  
  
"No, love... no more words right now. Phlox was emphatic that you have to rest. Twenty-four hours minimum. I should be overseeing repairs to the Armoury, but the Captain’s health is even more important than that. I'm here, love... and not going anywhere tonight.”  
  
I don't know when or how I made that decision, but it felt like the only possible choice... to stay with him. I'd nearly lost him, thought he was dead, hadn't even had time to grieve. But now I had him back, and memory lapses or no, unless he pushed me away there was nowhere for me but by his side.  
  
I stood and unzipped my jumpsuit, stepping out of it and folding it across the chair, as I always did, before unbuttoning my shirt and tugging it off. Jon hadn't moved, so I sat down next to him again and gently slid my hands under the red Stanford sweatshirt he was wearing, carefully pushing it up over his stomach and chest. He shivered a little at my touch, which reassured me. He always shivers when he first feels my palms flat against his stomach. He silently lifted his arms so that I could help get the shirt over his head. Seeing the bruises along his ribcage, I ached for what he'd been through at the hands of the Xindi.  
  
"There... you'll be more comfortable now, love. Why don't you lie down a little more... maybe on your back so that you don't put pressure on those ribs. And I have a hypo here that Phlox wanted me to give you before you went to sleep... for the pain. Maybe it's the good stuff."  
  
He nodded, murmuring only "I can't believe I could have forgotten this... that you and I... _any_ of this..."  
  
He did shift his position on the bed, moving to lay his head on the pillows he'd been leaning against. I bent to kiss him goodnight, touching very, very lightly on bruised lips. I thought for a moment about what I should do, then simply laid down close beside him and drew a blanket over us both.  
  
Jon fell asleep quickly. I'm sure he was exhausted, and Phlox's painkillers probably made him drowsy as well. Sleep didn't come as easily for me. I lay next to him, listening to his breathing, grateful when it slowed into the rhythm of sleep that I knew so well. I fought down the niggling thoughts about how things still might not be right, just grateful that he was alive, against all odds. We could sort out the rest in time.

__________________________________________

  
I was still awake when I remembered that I was supposed to update Phlox. I certainly wasn't going to leave Jon here alone, so I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, hoping Jon would stay asleep. Trying to keep my voice as soft as possible, I got Phlox on the comm and gave him a quick update, asking him more specifically about the apparent memory loss.  
  
"I wasn't aware of significant memory loss, Mr. Reed. I did notice that he had some trouble with specific memories of what transpired during his captivity, but I knew he was a bit disoriented by the blows to his head. I would have kept him in sickbay if it weren't half destroyed and the other half filled to overflowing with burn victims. And if the Captain hadn't been demanding to leave me to them."  
  
"Phlox, I'm serious. If I didn't know better, I'd say this wasn't Jon at all, not the man who went down to Azati Prime. Could you please run whatever analyses you can on the scans you took of him when he was returned to us... _every_ kind of analysis... DNA, retinal patterns, temporal signature...  
  
I had a sudden thought that chilled me enough that I actually shivered.  
  
"Oh god, Phlox! Prioritize the temporal signature study. He mentioned spending time with Mr. Daniels. Keep me posted, Doctor."  
  
After closing the comm channel, I didn't move for a few minutes. The screen faded to darkness and the only sound in the room was the snuffle of Porthos' light snoring. Jon slept silently, as he always had. I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest as starlight from the viewport played across his face and upper body. Earlier today it had seemed I'd never have this chance again, that I'd lost him forever. Part of me wanted to stay right where I was, simply to watch over him as he slept. But the impulse to stay close to him won out.  
  
When I slipped back into bed, my body found its accustomed position beside his, nestled into his side, an arm wrapped over his stomach. I remember thinking that it felt right... felt like Jon, smelled like him... but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that maybe I _did_ lose him after all. But then what about this man, who seemed so surprised that Malcolm loves him, surprised to hear he had kissed me. I was going to have to sort it out, but right now this man needed me.  
  
Jon reached over to draw me closer, pillowing my head on his shoulder just as he'd always done. I nuzzled into his neck a bit, and he sighed in his sleep. I was able to just barely catch the name that he breathed on that sigh. 'Malcolm...'  
  
Jon always called me Mal.  
  
I laid awake thinking about things for a long time, but must have finally slept. The last thing I remember was hearing Porthos coming over to sniff at Jon's hand. He sniffed again, then licked his hand and curled up to sleep right there on the floor by the bed.  
  
Feeling somehow comforted by this behaviour, I whispered, too quietly to disturb either of them, "Goodnight, love."

__________________________________________

  
Although I usually wake before Jon does, that next morning I was still half-asleep when I felt him get up from the bed, still moving stiffly. He had disappeared into the lav before I could get out of bed and back into my uniform. I did take advantage of his absence to comm Phlox.  
  
"Reed to Sickbay. Doctor, do you have those analyses yet?"  
  
"I do, Mr. Reed. And I was just on my way to see you both... if you'd stay where you are, hmmm."  
  
I picked up the sweatshirt Jon had been wearing the night before and handed it in to him, thinking he'd appreciate knowing we were about to have company. He was peering at his reflection, lightly touching the deep purple bruise on his forehead. I wanted to wrap an arm around him, but didn't.  
  
When he took the shirt from my hands, I felt his eyes seeking mine. They were full of questions, probably ones I couldn't answer. I'd just opened my mouth to tell him that Phlox was on his way when the door chime did that for me.

__________________________________________

  
"... and I found that there was a 0.059% temporal variance. It's fading, from the looks of the scan I just did. But, as best I can tell, it's what you'd expect from bringing something... or someone... into a timeline close to their own, but different from it."  
  
Someone had to say something. Jon was silent. So it fell to me to break the silence by asking the obvious.  
  
"So you're saying the Captain doesn't belong _here_?"  
  
Phlox's reply was quick and indignant.  
  
"I didn't say that. I'm merely saying that he might have been recently exposed to an alternative timeline. But by any and _every_ identity test I know how to run, he _is_ Jonathan Archer. He's the Captain of this ship. And he's lucky to be alive after the Xindi hospitality he encountered...”  
  
I interrupted him. My mind was racing even faster than I could get the questions out. I nodded toward Jon, who was silent through all of this, chewing his lower lip.  
  
“But if Jon _doesn't_ belong here, if this isn't his timeline... then our Jonathan Archer is what... or where? Dead? Missing? Lost? On some other _Enterprise_ in some other timeline? How the hell could this just happen--?"  
  
"It didn't." The familiar voice followed the opening of the lavatory door, startling everyone. It was Crewman Daniels.  
  
Jon seemed to find his voice at that point, but then he was familiar with Daniels popping in unexpectedly, whereas I was still trying to figure out how the hell the man got into the lav in the first place. Jon and I had just been in there, not five minutes earlier, and I would have sworn we were alone.  
  
"Daniels, what the hell were you doing in my bathroom? Don't you _ever_ knock? For that matter, what are you doing here at all? Don't you have timelines to oversee?"  
  
He paused to catch a breath, but started in with more questions before Daniels could reply.  
  
"Did you have something to do with this 'temporal variance' that Phlox found when he scanned me?"  
  
It was Daniels' turn to interrupt, looking from Jon to Phlox and then directly at me.  
  
"Jonathan, you know me. Dr. Phlox and Lt. Reed, I'm sure you know that I'm not the simple mess steward whose role I assumed. Let's just say I have a much broader responsibility than delivering breakfast orders.  
  
"Earth **must** survive. Jonathan Archer must survive. This mission _cannot_ fail. But it _was_ failing. I tried talking to Jonathan before he left for Azati Prime. He wouldn't listen, could see no way to do what I asked – request Xindi cooperation."  
  
Jon pushed himself away from the desk where he'd been leaning and paced the few steps across the room and back to the door before replying.  
  
"I didn't think it would work. But after having had just about enough of Reptilian hospitality, I demanded to see Degra, showed him that evidence you gave me – proof that Xindi and Humans were serving together in Starfleet in the future. And when I told him the name of his stillborn child... He believed me enough... enough to keep talking."  
  
Daniels nodded his agreement with what Jon was saying, his whole attention focused on Jon when he resumed his attempt to explain the situation.  
  
"He saved your life... but not your ship. While Degra was talking, Dolim was acting. He destroyed _Enterprise_ , Jonathan. You had no ship to go back to... "  
  
He paused only briefly to let his words sink in before continuing relentlessly.  
  
"Whereas, in _this_ timeline... Jonathan was not going to survive the Xindi torture. He had no advocate. They sent his body back to a seriously damaged _Enterprise_ , which they seemed to believe posed no further threat. I brought the other Jonathan Archer – _you_ – across with me into this timeline, to this ship."  
  
I was too astonished to say anything at all, but I couldn't take my eyes off Jon's face. His expression told me all I needed to know. He believed what Daniels was telling him. My Jon really had died down there... this really wasn't the man I thought he was.  
  
I barely heard the rest of what Daniels was saying... about the success of the mission. I knew that Lt. Reed should pay attention, even if Malcolm couldn't. The mission was more important that the life of one man. It _had_ to be. Jon had believed it to be when he kissed me and got into that shuttle.  
  
"In that other timeline, no one survived -- not _Enterprise_... not her Captain, alone... not even Earth... and eventually, not even the Xindi."  
  
Daniels had moved to within inches of where Jon was standing motionless. He paused until he knew he had the Captain's full attention.  
  
"I don't ask or expect your forgiveness. I did my job. I preserved what I could. But it's not over... you have to finish this, Jonathan. I can't tell you how to do that, but I know Degra's role is crucial."  
  
I'm still uncertain whether Daniels' words about forgiveness were meant for Jon alone, or for the rest of us as well. I rather believe he thought this was purely between him and Jonathan. I was of no importance to him or his timelines.  
  
Without further comment, Daniels left us. At least he used the door to the corridor to make his exit from Jon's... from _Jonathan's_ quarters, instead of disappearing into the lav.  
  
With Daniels' departure, Phlox swung into action again, steering an unresisting Jonathan toward the bed.  
  
"Captain, that was certainly an unexpected visit. He undoubtedly gave us all a great many things to think about. Your physical injuries are mending nicely, but I still want you under observation for another twelve hours, especially after Mr. Daniels' disclosures. I'm asking Lt. Reed to see to that, as I have critically injured patients to attend."  
  
Before Jonathan could register any protest, Phlox continued. "You are alive, Captain. As are we all, for the moment. Count yourself fortunate. I certainly do."

__________________________________________

  
As the door closed behind Phlox, Jonathan sank back onto the bed. He scrubbed a hand across his face, then covered his eyes with an arm, not saying anything. I knew Jon well enough to know he was trying to process what he'd just learned, that he was probably feeling overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all. I knew I should go to him and offer what reassurance and comfort I could... perhaps just a touch, a shoulder. Then I realized that this wasn't Jon. I didn't know this man at all... how could I possibly make such assumptions about how he might be feeling about anything, or about what he might want from me.  
  
My legs suddenly felt as if they wouldn't hold me up any longer, and I had to collapse onto the desk chair, head in my hands. I couldn't speak either, not yet. It was all I could do to contain most of what I was feeling, and even then I had to wipe at my eyes occasionally as my jumbled thoughts bubbled to the surface. I felt as if I was battling on two fronts, my grief at losing Jon warring with thoughts of how armoury officers don't cry at the loss of their captain, and how Reed men don't cry at all, _ever_.  
  
And I thought about how patiently Jon had tried to tell me... to _show_ me... that there is a time for tears, that there is no shame in sharing them. Suddenly the words started to flow as well, and I couldn't stop either stream.  
  
"Bloody hell! This is stupid. Why the fuck am I crying? You're _here_... but you're not him. I lost the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with... but I look across the room and there he is, there you are. Are you Jonathan Archer? Yes, obviously. I didn't really need Phlox's scans to tell me that. Are you the man I fell in love with? God, how can I know?"  
  
I can't even remember all of what I said. I know I had to keep wiping a hand across my eyes, and it kept doing less and less good. My words finally began to run dry, but not before I'd given voice to my deepest fear.  
  
"You were surprised by our intimacy. You might not even love me... might not have loved Malcolm Reed, that is, in your timeline. I don't know... don't know _you_. You might not approve of what we are to one another, or what we _were_... might not understand how we loved. Just... oh god, _Jon_...”  
  
I still don't know if I was talking to the man on the bed... or the man in my heart, the one I had lost. But it was the man on the bed who responded to something he must have heard in my voice or my words.  
  
He struggled some as he tried to sit up again... his cracked ribs were probably making it painful. But he managed it on a second try, shifting his position on the bed, making room beside him. He looked over at me, then touched the space beside him on the bed before stretching out a hand to me.  
  
I couldn't move. Not yet. Not until he started talking to me, his voice quiet. When I closed my eyes for a moment, it could have been Jon speaking.  
  
"Malcolm, I can't begin to understand what you're feeling... can't know your loss. You must have loved him very much... and he you. I could feel that when you stayed with me last night. The comfort you were offering wasn't meant for me, but I couldn't help but accept it. I hope you aren't offended that I did. I didn't realize any of this... that I don't belong here. I thought it really was my memory at fault."  
  
I had to lift my head then, had to look over at him. His eyes were searching for mine, needing to be sure I understood him. When I nodded a little, he continued.  
  
"I can't replace him, Malcolm. I'm _me_ , although we're both Jonathan Archer, however that is possible."  
  
He made it sound so final, the loss so certain. My vision started to blur again then, no matter how hard I tried to blink back the tears. He didn't seem to expect me to answer him, not yet... just wanted me to listen. I could do that.  
  
"I've lost a lot, too... lost my whole damn ship apparently, my whole crew, _everyone_. I have no idea how to even take that in yet. I think I'm almost numb to that a loss of that magnitude. And I can't afford to dwell much on it... there's a ship and crew here who need their Captain. Apparently, that's me now.  
  
"But what I _know_ I feel... right now... is that I've lost someone particularly important to me, as well... though I never found the moment to tell him so... or the courage."  
  
His pause there was a long one, almost making me think he still hadn't found it, even after losing him. But I was wrong. He continued.  
  
"His name was Malcolm Reed. You aren't him, can't _be_ him... any more or less than I'm the Jonathan Archer you knew, the man you loved. But the grief is something we have in common... and I find that no matter what, or where, or apparently _when_ , I trust you, Malcolm..."  
  
His eyes searched mine, I couldn't look away. I don't think I wanted to.  
  
"I'll never push you toward anything you don't want or can't offer... will never expect, never ask... except one thing. I'd very much like, and very much _need_ your friendship... if you can give it, if it's not too painful a reminder of all you've lost."  
  
As I watched his face, I saw something I'd seen before... tears gathering in green eyes. It was reassuring to me that he didn't even try to blink the wetness away, and when he spoke again, his voice cracked a little.  
  
"Would you come and sit with me, Malcolm... grieve with me, at least? For the few hours we have here before I need to walk out that door and be Captain to people who'll never know the whole truth about what happened. Maybe it will help us both."  
  
He held out his hand to me again, and this time it drew me to him. Sitting there, close to him, he took one of my hands in his and wrapped his other arm around my shoulder. I realized something as I leaned into his warmth just a little, finally able to let go of some of the control I'd been trying to hold. He wasn't the man I'd lost, but it was going to be very hard to deny him anything.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

####  **_Personal Log: Jonathan Archer_**

Good god, I have no idea where to start. I'm due back on duty shortly, but wanted a few minutes alone to try to sort through my thoughts. Malcolm just went back to the Armoury; he seemed aware of my need for a little space without my even mentioning it.

I could page through this log to try to learn something about the man whose place I've assumed, but I'm reluctant to do that. I'll read the official Captain's Log, but I can't bring myself to intrude on aspects of his life that I didn't share.

As I told Malcolm, I'm stunned into near silence by the magnitude of all of this – the losses, on all sides... the damage... my own survival... and by Malcolm himself.

Daniels apparently expects me to step into this timeline, this life... without missing a beat. He made a poor assumption there, thinking no one would notice or care. But the man who made the previous entries here... 'Jon' as Malcolm called him... had memories and experiences that I've never had or known. Those didn't just vanish, not those that were shared... Malcolm remembers them.

Malcolm... so very much like the man I knew... but with a difference. This man has loved deeply, and has been cherished in return. I'm seeing a different kind of strength in him, along with a vulnerability I only glimpsed in the Malcolm Reed I fell in love with. I think that's what led me to hold him today as he tried to come to terms with his loss. I don't know that I would have dared before, but it seemed the only thing to do today. And perhaps that's why he could accept that from me...

This is complicated already... and I know it will only become more so.

I don't think this is helping. Maybe I'll try again later.

End log.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **Two weeks later**

We continued to share quarters, at least in the literal sense of the word. We both kept our things there, showered and changed there, and collapsed into bed there. But it was seldom that we were both there at the same time. Repair schedules wrecked havoc on any previous notions of a three-shift duty rotation and it became almost 'normal' to work until near-collapse, then fall onto the bed to catch a few hours of dreamless exhausted sleep.

It occurred to me on more than a few occasions, as I lay alone in Jonathan's bed and willed sleep to come quickly, that it was possible that both of us were doing this half-deliberately – avoiding the awkwardness of an implied intimacy that neither of us felt comfortable with.

We didn't speak of it often after that first day. We didn't actually talk much at all, except as Captain to Tactical Officer. And _that_ relationship seemed almost frighteningly normal. Jonathan was neither more nor less willing to take tactical advice from me (or anyone else) than Jon had been, and he was as heedless of his personal safety.

In the midst of an argument with him over the ethics of helping ourselves to someone else's warp coil, it struck me that it would have been the same with Jon... and that we would probably have had more angry words in quarters afterward. But then, sooner or later, he would have sought my arms... no apologies asked or offered. It was the Expanse... the mission. It had changed us all, in ways we regretted even as we acknowledged the necessity. And it apparently had exerted the same influences on Jonathan, with the same effects. Like it or not, I knew this Captain Archer. I was much less sure, or at least less willing to admit, that I knew this Jonathan, the man.

One night it finally happened. We had both worked twelve-hour shifts and were off-duty at the same time. He must have stopped by the Mess Hall on his way back to his quarters because I was already there, showering, trying to rid myself of the remains of too many hours spent crawling around in torpedo tubes and plasma conduits. He was as surprised to see me as I was at his return just then. I used up my water ration in trying to wait him out, hoping he might leave before I had to parade around in a towel... before I had to collapse into his bed.

I had no such luck, and finally did slip from the lav to my clothing drawer clad only in a towel that I wished left more to the imagination. He tried to give me as much privacy as he could manage with averted eyes, but I felt that avoidance as keenly as if it were his gaze... equally embarrassing for both of us, most likely. I was very aware that I looked exactly like someone he'd been very attracted to... someone he'd told me he loved, though he never told _him_ about it. I know I was blushing, and it only worsened when I wondered for a moment if he found me as attractive as he had his Malcolm Reed. I didn't know whether to wish he did, or hope he did not.

We shared the bed that night for the first time since that first night when we both thought he was someone else. I was grateful for my exhaustion; once my head hit the pillow, I was dead to the world. Contrary to what had been my usual position when I slept with Jon, I'd deliberately taken the far side of the bed, lying as near to the edge as I could manage, giving him his space. But by morning, I'd moved closer, finding myself spooned up against his back... my body wrapped around his. I pulled away as soon as I woke enough to realize where I was... _who_ this was... and who it wasn't. This wasn't the man I'd curled up next to for over a year, the man whose body welcomed the hardness pressed against that beautiful arse when I woke in the mornings already wanting him.

He must have been as exhausted as I was, because it didn't wake him. I quickly rolled onto my back, away from him... but needed a few minutes to convince my body that this wasn't the man I'd awakened so many times with a kiss or caress. As I calculated phase cannon trajectory vectors, my eyes did wander over his sleeping form... the body I knew so well, had touched so often... and I thought about the man I had loved so much. I couldn't even tell myself whether or not finding this man attractive was a betrayal of that love or not. I mourned Jon's loss, but it was a uniquely solitary grief. After that first day, I couldn't even find the release of tears.

I lay there, thinking, for what felt like a long time, until I knew it was past time to get up. My erection had subsided, and some other part of me had made a decision. Before slipping quietly from the bed, I leaned over and touched my lips to the back of his neck... just where his neck meets his shoulder. It was a familiar gesture for me... I'd always kissed him there... always kissed _Jon_ there. He didn't stir or wake. I didn't want him to. But I'd wanted to leave him with _something_ , not just slip away forever.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **_Personal Log: Jonathan Archer Security Locked_**

He must not have realized I was awake this morning. I’m surprised... I would have thought Malcolm would be one to investigate thoroughly, but perhaps he was willing to play along with the pretense of sleep to save us both the embarrassment. Or so preoccupied with his own discomfort that he really was much less observant than I would expect Malcolm Reed to be.

I think I was actually half awake before he woke at all. I remember feeling wrapped in warmth, with warm strong arms wrapped around me, and a very warm body curved around my backside... along with a hardness the likes of which I hadn't felt pressed against my ass in a very long time.

It felt like a dream, and I'll admit I have dreamed of it often enough in the past three years... dreamed of what it might be like to wake up with Malcolm. But in those dreams I was the one wrapped around him, my own morning erection pressed into the cleft of that gorgeous ass that his uniform hints at so eloquently. So the reality of him was an unexpected... and wonderful... experience.

But I know that this wasn't for me. As it was on that first night, it was for the man he always called 'Jon.' He's taken to calling me 'Jonathan' when it isn't 'Captain' or 'Sir'. I'll never tire of hearing it... I longed for it. But it's the name I always heard in my dreams, and that doesn't help me keep the distance between us that I know Malcolm needs me to keep, the space he needs for his silent grief.

I wish I could somehow ease the sadness I can read in his eyes, but I know I can't reach out to him any further without feeling his hand reaching back to tell me he wants it... or wants me.

He had one more surprise for me this morning. Just when I thought he was about to slip out of bed, I felt Malcolm close the distance between us again... and I felt him kiss my neck, with more tenderness than I've ever felt from anyone. I don't know what it meant to him, or even whether it was meant for me... or for that other Jon. I think it was for him, and will always wonder if my counterpart ever realized how very much he was loved. I like to hope he knew, and that he treasured every moment they had together.

End log.

  


________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **Jonathan's Quarters – late that evening**

  


Basic repairs to at least some of the crew quarters were complete, and I knew I had to speak to Jonathan before we found ourselves in bed together again. I'd rehearsed the words in my mind a hundred times, but it didn't make it any easier when the moment came to say them aloud to him.

"Captain... Jonathan, I think it might be best for me to move back into my quarters now that the crewmen bunking there can have their old cabin back. I know you must want your privacy, and this wasn't an arrangement that you ever requested... "

I added, much more softly, though he probably heard. "or that either of us is comfortable with."

Jonathan didn't say anything at all for a very long moment. His hesitation surprised me. I thought he was as ill at ease with the false intimacy as I was beginning to be.

"I'm sure you're anxious to get back to your own quarters, Malcolm. You'll have more space... your privacy... "

But his voice trailed off. If this were Jon, I would have called it doubt or indecision. He'd seldom let that show in front of the crew, but I knew it well. But this wasn't Jon, and I couldn't make assumptions on the basis of a relationship that Jonathan had never been a part of.

"I'll just gather my things, then... "

As I turned to the drawer I'd been using for spare uniforms, I saw Porthos by the door and felt a sudden sense of loss... of finality. It was what I wanted, needed – a way to let Jon go, to close the door on a past that was over. But I hadn't thought about how much I'd miss Porthos. I lied earlier when I said I slept alone in Jonathan's bed these past weeks. As often as not, Porthos had climbed up onto the bed with me sometime before morning, and I'd never had the heart to send him back to his own bed as Jon had always done when he'd tried to join us on the bed.

"Wait... Malcolm... we need to talk about this. About all of this... "

His eyes told me more about what 'all of this' encompassed than his words ever could. I nodded and took the offered seat on the edge of the neatly made bed. He'd taken to making up the bed when he got up, perhaps in deference to my lifelong habit of doing so. Interestingly, even after over a year together, Jon never had.

"I was torn, just now... about what to say. I gave you the response I thought I should give, the one I'm sure you were expecting to hear. But not because I'm anxious to be rid of you. I don't want you to think that.

"Malcolm, the last thing I ever want to do is to hurt you. But it seems like I _do_ hurt you by intruding on your privacy and your memories... by keeping up a pretense of detachment. And I think I hurt you worst of all by sharing a bed with you as I did last night, lying there next to you in the bed you'd shared with him, but not being the man you loved... still love..."

I can still hear the pause... can still hear the sigh as he scrubbed a hand down his face before continuing.

"whereas to me you are... "

The rest of his words were unvoiced... and I didn't dare try to complete his sentence for him, already feeling as if I were intruding into his private thoughts as well as his quarters. I considered slipping away quietly and returning later for my things.

But his eyes sought mine, and I had no heart to look away.

"I loved Malcolm Reed for the past three years. May I tell you about him?"

I was silent through most of what he told me. I don't know what I could have said.

"... and I cradled him in my arms after that mine impaled him. He shared his deepest fears with me out there on the hull, as he did again when we were almost executed together. I begged for his life then, but I couldn't save him. I felt I'd failed him completely, but he still trusted me. It was as if that whole experience drew us closer.

"Later he rescued me from Rura Penthe... and the smile that lit his face when our eyes met was incandescent. I thought after that experience that we might... that _I_ should have... it would have been the right time to speak. But I put it off, waiting for the perfect moment."

My own memories came flooding back. "It _was_... the perfect moment." I don't know whether he heard my murmured words. He continued as if he hadn't.

"Then the Xindi attacked Earth. This year hasn't... _hadn't._.. been kind to us... to any of us, I guess. I know I've done things he didn't... _couldn't_ agree with. I scarcely knew myself some days. But he was always there, always by my side, seemingly closer than ever.

"I wanted so badly to tell him what he meant to me. I didn't get a chance to do that. Now _you're_ here... and you've lost so much..."

The silence fell between us again, both of us lost in thoughts. He finally spoke again.

"I'll be here, whenever, _however_ , you need me to be. If you want to move back to your quarters, I'll understand."

I don't know what impulse made him reach out to me then, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as he had that first day back from Azati Prime. And I didn't know what made me feel so sheltered there, so safe. My eyes were wet again as they met his, and it didn't matter to either of us at that moment.

"I know. Thank you, Jonathan."

My voice dropped to a whisper as I turned away from those green eyes.

"I just don't know how to let go of him..."


	2. Part 2

### Part 2

****

#### **Enroute to rendezvous with Degra's ship**

  
  
I finally got to meet Degra, the Xindi Humanoid whom Jonathan believes is crucial to the success of our mission. Using information he'd obtained from his counterpart in the other timeline, Jonathan was able to contact _this_ Degra and arranged to meet with him here aboard _Enterprise_.  
  
The evidence presented at that meeting was persuasive enough that Jonathan was invited to address the full Xindi Council. Degra made it clear that it was not going to be easy to convince the other Council members that the sphere-builders were not the benevolent Guardians they believed them to be. But any opportunity for a diplomatic resolution was worth the attempt, particularly since Degra confirmed that the weapon was nearly ready for deployment.  
  
Degra offered to provide escort for _Enterprise_ to the Council planet, without which I'm certain we would never get past its security perimeter. From a tactical viewpoint, we had to consider that this might be a trap, but Jonathan was certain that Degra could be trusted. Having met him, I could understand that trust; he appears to be a man of integrity.  
  
I should have known he would be such, would have to have been for he and Jonathan to have reached an accord twice... once by stratagem, in his own timeline, and again here by appealing to the man behind the weapon designer. The latter tactic was a risk, as I warned Jonathan in my professional opinion, but he was determined to try the honest approach. I remember that conversation, one of the few we had in his quarters while I was still staying there. By some unspoken understanding, we only discussed the other timeline when we were in private.  
  
"I didn't like the idea of having Phlox alter his memories the first time, but I saw no alternative. That weapon was one day nearer to launch with every day we were unable to locate it."  
  
He took a breath and continued, not expecting any comment from me.  
  
"I did what had to be done at that time, and I've used that information again in persuading Degra to even speak with me now."  
  
I was watching his face as he spoke. His eyes had been focussed on something in the far distance, or even in the past, as he spoke of 'doing what had to be done,' but he brought his gaze back to meet mine as he continued. I wondered for a moment how many times he'd said those words to himself or to 'his' Malcolm, and whether it really convinced either of them. But those were questions I never asked, just as he never asked about Jon. They were an aching silence between us.  
  
"I'm feeling some guilt about using information gained that way from his counterpart, but it would be worse to tamper with his mind if we don't have to. I've done too many things I'm not proud of on this mission, Malcolm. Please don't ask me to add to them."  
  
I shook my head, hoping he understood that I would never have asked that. My job was to make him aware of the risks. It's what I've tried to do since this mission began... to advise, argue when it seemed appropriate, then pull back and let him step onto the ledge, be it a moral or a physical endangerment. Captain Archer's tactical officer understood his role, as did Jon's partner.  
  
That didn't mean it was easy then, and it wasn't easy now with Jonathan, despite the difference in our personal relationship. But there is one thing I never forgot, _could_ never forget -- although he had to stand alone on that ledge, I would always have his back. I still do. I hoped Jonathan knew that with as much certainty as Jon had known it.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **_Personal Log: Jonathan Archer_ **

I'm not sleeping much tonight, so I thought I'd try to talk myself through some of what keeps running though my head as I lie here, half-watching the passing stars.

I miss him. I miss Malcolm... and worry that I'm not even sure I know which one. Actually, that's not quite true. I worry because I do know.

When I think of Malcolm, most of the images that come to mind are of the man who slept in this bed, the one who took care of Porthos when I was almost too overwhelmed by events to notice him. The Malcolm who wasn't ashamed of his tears or of letting me see them.

I do see the other Malcolm Reed in him... in his eyes when he looks up from his station and catches me glancing in his direction, in the tone of his voice and the way he crosses his arms when he argues with me, in the quiet fierceness, the protectiveness... all of it reassuring by its very familiarity. Even the arguments and disagreements are very familiar... as is the disapproval or disappointment I sense from him sometimes, whether he expresses it or not.

But it's the other side of _this_ Malcolm that I miss, and I have no right to that part of him. His shields were down when I glimpsed that part of him most clearly. At first he thought I was the man he loved... then he was grieving. Of course he was open and vulnerable. If some of it spilled over to me, it's not his fault – I was here, he was here.

Now he's not. And I miss him.

I find myself on guard around him sometimes. I don't want him to suspect any of this, any of how I'm starting to feel about him. The last thing I'd ever want him to think is that I'd see him as a substitute for the man I lost, the one I never really had, and probably never _would_ have had. And I don't want pity, any more than he wants it from me.

He couldn't know that it's his uniqueness that is making me fall in love again. With _him_. It's a different love... from that moment I woke to feel him wrapped around me I felt something I've never felt before. Even though it wasn't for me, it was a taste of something I want very much. I'd dreamed so often of loving Malcolm, cherishing, protecting him... and of making love to him. Now there's another aspect to my dreams. I want _him_ to feel that way toward me as well... and to be able to let go of my own control and simply let him love me.

I don't know exactly how that would translate to our bed, but I know it wouldn't be like any relationship I've ever imagined before.

End log.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
****

#### **Immediately following the encounter with the future _Enterprise_ **

  
  
Our encounter with the future _Enterprise_ continues to haunt me. If it represented nothing else, it was a glimpse into a possible future, perhaps even a probable one. The bleakness of the future I saw for Malcolm Reed was devastating – solitary, childless on a ship full of families, perhaps destined to die an early death, alone.  
  
I'm still not sure how I managed to get through that awkward lunch with Hoshi and Travis where we discussed this. Hoshi was just being friendly; she couldn't have known the effect her innocent question would have on me.  
  
"... and who'd you end up with... on the other Enterprise? Did you get married? Have kids?"  
  
Her casual curiosity slammed headlong into my own desolation.  
  
"Actually I didn't. Apparently the Reed family line came to a rather unceremonious end. You'd think on a ship this size I would have been able to find someone..."  
  
What she couldn't know is that I _had_ found someone, and lost him. Jon and I had been fairly discreet about our relationship, mostly at my request. Had it been up to him, I believe Jon would have shouted it to the passing stars, heedless of anyone else overhearing him. I almost wish now that he had done so; I might not feel so alone with my memories if other people also remembered us being together.  
  
I was very relieved when the two of them left me to the untouched food on my tray, and to my thoughts of past and future. It was when those two thoughts intersected that I began to wonder if perhaps our present could still be a turning point.

__________________________________________

  


####  **Later that night**

During the first fortnight after I'd moved back into my own quarters, Jonathan made a point of inviting me back to visit whenever I wished. Porthos missed me, it seemed. I missed him too, but never accepted the offer to visit him... to visit _either_ of them.

So I was a bit surprised to find myself standing in front of the door to his quarters the night after we left the other _Enterprise_ , speeding toward our rendezvous with Degra's ship. My hand went to the keypad automatically, but I drew it back sharply when I realized that this was not an official Security visit... and other than that, I had no right to let myself into the Captain's quarters. He might even have changed his personal passcode.

I felt a small smile forming at a memory that surfaced, despite it being a bittersweet one. Last year, in what I termed a fit of sappiness, Jon had incorporated my birthdate into that passcode. I don't think I ever told him how touched I was by the gesture, afraid that would only encourage more such. His kindness and care for me on my birthday was one of the first reasons I'd ever really let myself think of the possibility of a relationship with him.

While I was still standing outside his door, trying to decide whether to knock or to run back to my own quarters, that decision was taken out of my hands as the door opened. Jonathan was dressed very casually in grey sweatpants and a black tee-shirt, and Porthos bounded through the door as soon as it opened enough to allow his passage. I had to smile at the enthusiastic greeting I received, and stooped to pet him and scratch behind his ears.

Only then did I stand... and notice Jonathan's smile. I hadn't seen much of it lately, for obvious reasons, and was glad to see that Porthos could still elicit one.

"He's missed you, Malcolm. It hasn't been the same without you there. No sleeping on the bed... isn't that right, Porthos?"

We both smiled a little at that. "Caught us," I murmured, mostly to Porthos.

"I'm glad you decided to stop by. We were just going for a quick walk, maybe swing by the mess hall for a bit of c-h-e-e-s-e, then the observation lounge. Would you like to come along?"

I nodded, and we walked in comfortable silence, my own thoughts slipping back to my previous late night rambles through the ship with Porthos. Jon would take my hand in the more deserted corridors, and it felt just clandestine enough to make my breath catch every time he did it. I pushed the memories aside, a little surprised that they were actually making me smile rather than compounding my sense of loss.

We settled onto opposite ends of a small couch in the rear observation lounge. Jon and I had come here a few times when we were courting, before we accepted the notion that his quarters were more comfortable and considerably more private.

Jonathan was sipping at a glass of iced tea. I occupied my hands with sweetening a cup of coffee, but never actually drank any of it. He was very quiet, gazing out at the stars. I had always wondered what Jon saw when he did that. Was he seeing them from the perspective of an astronomer, or of an explorer... or perhaps with the eyes of a poet? I'd never asked.

But I did that evening.

He didn't reply immediately, and I wondered for a moment if I'd crossed a line into too personal a realm. But after he'd gathered his thoughts, Jonathan's answer surprised me, not so much by its content, but with its simplicity and eloquence.

"I see my dreams, Malcolm. Past, present, future. All of them linked in some way to those stars."

Since he hadn't objected to that rather personal inquiry, I gathered my courage and asked the other question that had been on my mind all day.

"Do you think that future we saw is certain? Or could our actions, or our very knowledge of it, result in a different future?"

My eyes sought his, and held his gaze as I continued. "I couldn't help but wonder what things would have been like if Jon had lived, if he and I were still together when that happened. Would we have seen _our_ grandchildren today?"

Neither of us seemed inclined to clarify the _'our'_... and Jonathan's response was spoken so quietly that it might have been a whisper as he breached the space between us to touch my arm gently.

"I don't know, Malcolm. I hope so."

__________________________________________

  


####  **In the Captain's Ready Room**

Things moved so quickly after Degra's death. Jonathan and I didn't have a chance to talk but once before events propelled us into those final decisions – the ones he made on Degra's ship and in the core of the weapon itself.

I'd come to the bridge to let him know that my team was prepped and ready to transfer to Degra's faster ship, together with a seriously injured Lt. Sato and the Captain himself, if he still insisted on going along. I found him in his ready room, standing by the viewport. If I hadn't heard his quiet _"Come in, Malcolm"_ I would have hesitated to disturb him. He half-turned toward me as I stood at ease and gave him the tactical report from his Armoury Officer.

"... and we're expecting they will be able to provide us with the rest of the information we require to disable the weapon... and how exactly to destroy it."

He nodded as I finished. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I know that Janar, and Degra's team, are expecting to brief us while we're chasing it down."

He turned back toward the viewport and I began to wonder if I was dismissed, but without looking at me, he asked a question that was clearly bothering him.

"Malcolm, do you think I was responsible for Degra's death?"

I forgot for the moment that this was Jonathan; the question was so much like those Jon had asked himself after some of his other decisions on this mission. And I knew he was asking the question of Malcolm, not his tactical officer. I shook my head, and then realized that he could see me only as a reflection in the viewport.

"Why do _you_ think you are?"

Before he could reply, I continued.

"Jonathan, he was _murdered_ , assassinated by his fellow Council member! I don't know all of Dolim's motives, but it's easy enough to speculate..."

He addressed his response to my reflection, his gaze still fixed somewhere beyond it, on the stars streaming past. Only his hand betrayed his tension in the way he was rubbing a thumb across his fingertips, a bit of nervous body language I knew all too well. When he spoke, the tightness was just as evident in his voice.

"I didn't have to pull the knife to be responsible, Malcolm. He wouldn't have been killed that way if I hadn't drawn him into all of this... not in _this_ timeline..."

His voice trailed off almost to inaudible as he continued.

"... chalk up one more for the long list of things I'll have to live with, Malcolm."

I took the few steps necessary to close the distance between us and laid my hand on his back, silently begging him to turn toward me. After a moment he did, moving just past me to lean against the edge of his desk, his posture now more weary than tense.

It hurt to see him shouldering so much of the burden of this mission, but he always had done so... there'd be no changing that. It was intrinsic to the man. To accept him was to accept that about him. I tried to reassure him just as I would have reassured Jon, by simply being a willing ear and reflecting his thoughts back to him, perhaps helping him to see his actions or decisions in another light. I could only hope it helped him somewhat.

"You did the right thing, Jonathan – telling him the truth about what the sphere-builders are doing. If Daniels can be believed, there would be no more of a future for Degra's people than for ours. We just don't know how much time the Xindi might have... whether their end would be in his lifetime... or his children's lifetimes... or later."

I saw a flash of pain in his eyes, and had to curb an impulse to go to him and wrap my arms around him, reminding myself sharply that this was Jonathan, not Jon. I was his officer and his friend, nothing more.

"Degra's children... his family... meant everything to him. I know he didn't make his decision lightly..."

I nodded my agreement. "No, I'm sure he didn't. And his decisions were his own. You showed him the evidence, and it was persuasive."

He seemed to consider this for a long moment, and then shook his head almost imperceptibly, as if unwilling to agree completely.

"Degra was convinced, but he knew some of his people would consider it an act of betrayal. I know he was very aware that there would be consequences."

He paused, glancing at me for my reaction, as he so often did. I murmured my agreement, and when he continued I heard more conviction in his voice.

"But I think he'd choose the same path again, and I _know_ that I would. That doesn't keep me from feeling guilty as hell about his death."

Jonathan was silent for a long time after that, looking out at the stars. I didn't know what I could say that would be of any help whatsoever. I touched his hand as I turned to go. He met my eyes and held my gaze for a long moment, but murmured only "Thank you, Malcolm."

I'm not sure what he was grateful for. I feel like I did so little to help, only listen... be there. Maybe that's all he needed, or all he would accept.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **Personal Log: Jonathan Archer**

This might well be my last log entry. Malcolm just told me that he's ready to take his team aboard Degra's ship to chase down and destroy the weapon. He tried to talk me out of even going with them, so I didn't tell him the rest of my plans. I will when the time comes, of course, and he'll protest that as well. But it won't make any difference. I've made my decision.

It's something I have to do myself, setting the final charges. We don't know the whole layout of the damn thing yet, but it's likely to be a risky job and there's no way in hell I'm ordering anyone else to do it. I won't be knowingly responsible for any more deaths. And I _won't_ let Malcolm sacrifice himself in my place... I couldn't live with myself if I did. Not after all of the other deaths... here, and in that other time.

Malcolm... what can I say of him? What I regret most is that we didn't have enough time together. I wanted him to know that I love him, but I promised him I'd never push. He trusted me... he cared for me, held me when I hurt, and let me do the same for him. I couldn't burden him with a love he could not accept or return right now. Perhaps with time...

I'm leaving this log entry open and unlocked. If I don't return, maybe he'll find it someday, and know there was one thing I wanted to say to him...

_I love you, Malcolm._

Pause Log.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **Personal Log -- Malcolm Reed**

(14.02.2153)

I've lost him... again. And this time... it was _me_ who never told _him_.

I'm numb now. Have been so since we had to accept that he didn't make if out of there alive... and had to return to _Enterprise_ without him. I've never felt more alone in all my life.

I should have seen it coming, knowing the guilt he was carrying for all of the losses... for Degra's death... for everything he'd had to do that cut directly across his own sensibilities. Even if he wasn't sure he could make it back, he'd not ask, or permit, anyone else's sacrifice. Especially not mine.

I only wish I had told him... while there was still time.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **In Jonathan's quarters, orbiting Earth (1944)**

_"Not home yet..."_

Jonathan murmured those words to me when he reached out to clasp my shoulder as soon as he arrived on the bridge. I don't believe he was referring only to our being trapped in Earth's past, and the words and the thought stayed with me long after the moment passed.

When he entered his quarters for the night, Jonathan found me already there. I'd been waiting for him, and was half-lost in my thoughts, sitting in the middle of his bed with knees drawn up toward my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Porthos had been on the bed with me, but jumped down and ran to him as soon as the door opened. I didn't do the same, though the impulse did cross my mind, as it had when he'd stepped onto the bridge earlier – alive, against all odds.

He stopped to pet the excited pup for a moment, but without taking his eyes from mine. When he got to his feet again, he crossed to the bed and sat on the edge of it, facing me, so close our hips were nearly touching. He breathed a single word as he reached out to take my face between his hands and kissed me.

"Malcolm."

I had expected to need to explain why I was in his quarters, sitting on his bed with Porthos, and I wanted to explain why I was returning his kiss, but he didn't want words yet. Yet once it began, I think part of me half-expected that his kiss might deepen into need and he'd have wanted all of me, then and there. It would likely have been a welcome release for us both, but would have left me, at least, with so many questions unasked and unanswered.

As it happened, that first kiss did linger... how could it not? I was holding Jonathan in my arms, after believing for over a week that I'd lost him just as I'd begun to realize how much he had become to me. He was holding me, touching my cheek with his fingertips as if to reassure himself that I was really there with him. But it was a tender kiss, not a passionate one. His tongue touched my lips so lightly it was barely a caress, much less a request. He wasn't asking more, was content to let the rest come in its own time.

The sweetness of his kiss and my joy at seeing him alive were overlaid with what I can only call a desperate need to be sure that all of this was real. I needed to know not only that Jonathan had truly returned safely... but that he was _Jonathan_ – the same man who had ordered me to leave him on that Xindi weapon with steel in his voice and his heart in his eyes – and not the result of another timeline manipulation by Daniels. That terrifying possibility had occurred to me only a short while before, as I was sitting on his bed trying to determine just when my feelings toward him had deepened from friendship into much more.

As the kiss ended, he began to draw back, his eyes searching mine, almost as if he were hesitant to ask or expect more. I was torn between wishing to lose myself in those green eyes and longing to find my way into his arms and be held close. All of this was still too overwhelming for words and I wouldn't have trusted my voice, regardless. Instead I reached out, hooking an arm around his neck to draw him near enough to slip my other arm around his waist and bury my face against his chest and shoulder. His arms closed around me, sheltering, shutting out everything but the two of us.

I didn't realize that I must have spoken aloud until I heard his voice softly echoing the thought that was foremost in my mind.

_"home_..."

We simply held each other quietly for a long time. There were things I needed to say, but for the moment, I simply allowed the warmth and strength to envelope me, letting my hands roam across his back, his shoulders... and I shivered as his hands did the same. He was touching me so carefully, a little shyly... almost as if he feared I'd bolt or that I'd break. That care and his reticence told me all I needed to know about his identity.

I murmured against his neck. "I'm not going to run away, love. I _want_ you to touch me... to make me know you're really here... with me."

His reply was mostly nonverbal... except for a few hushed, almost whispered words.

"I'm here... and I love you, Malcolm."

Those words unlocked my voice. I slipped from his arms and drew back enough to meet his eyes. I had to see his face as all the pent-up words poured out, probably half-incoherently.

"... thought I'd lost you, and I hadn't even told you... that I love you. Losing you like that... Jonathan, it felt even worse than before. I didn't even have the memories... of us. Only the regret..."

My voice broke, and I had to take a deep breath before I could go on. Jonathan started to say something, but I laid my fingertips across his lips and shook my head. There was more I needed to say and I didn't want the emotion to overwhelm me before I could get the words out.

"I should have told you. You deserved to know... before you..."

Jonathan murmured quiet reassurances and gathered me close to his chest again. Resting my head against his shoulder, I felt his heart beating strong and slow, and let his calm seep into me. After a few deep breaths, I found my voice again and continued, determined to tell him everything now.

"I wanted to be sure... things seemed so complicated. Then it was too late. I thought you had died not knowing... died believing that I didn't, or _couldn't._.. see you as anyone more than my captain, or at most, as a friend. And then I found your log entry..."

My voice threatened to break again as I remembered how I'd reacted to hearing his voice speaking the words he'd left for me to hear. I lifted my head from his chest and reached for his hand, taking it in mine, clasping it tightly as I sought and found his eyes.

"That you wanted and needed to tell me that you loved me... I've thought so often about that, and about you, during these last days alone. And then when I heard your voice, saw your face again... I realized that it's really so simple: I love you, Jonathan. And it's _you_ I've fallen in love with; I know that now. You and Jon have much in common, but you're not the same man. What we find together will be unique to us... will be our own."

My voice did break then, almost too full of emotion to continue, but I still needed to put it into words.

"... I love you, Jonathan. Please let me _show_ you that... let me hold you, touch you. You said you love me... that means _everything_ to me. Let me love you..."

He whispered a few words that went straight to my heart as he cupped his hands around my face, just before he kissed me and drew me down onto the bed beside him, our legs intertwining for the first time.

"Ahh, my Malcolm... let's try to find our way home... together."

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **Personal Log: Jonathan Archer**

####    
  
Malcolm knew I was awake this morning. Unlike that other time when I woke in his arms, today we both knew exactly where we were, and why. We'd finally fallen asleep along toward morning, after talking and loving until we'd exhausted both words and bodies.  
  
We must have shifted positions sometime during sleep. I'd been holding him as we drifted off. He'd nestled close to my side, his head pillowed on my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my stomach. I remember thinking how perfectly he fit against me that way.  
  
When I woke, I was wrapped around his backside... a mirror echo of the way he'd been lying against me that morning when he didn't realize I wasn't asleep. I was holding him close to me with an arm around his waist, and he'd covered my hand with his. My body knew very well where it was, and the strength of _that_ response caught me by surprise. At my age... and after last night...  
  
I didn't want to move at all yet, wanted to try to hold the moment a little longer... a very quiet moment compared to what we'd so recently shared, but one that felt just as meaningful by its very stillness.  
  
I spent a few minutes lost in thoughts of our first night as lovers... of discovering Malcolm's body, his responses... of learning what makes him moan softly, or cry my name out loud... of how beautiful he looked, lying naked in our bed, fully aroused, wanting me.  
  
When he told me he loved me, I could have been content just to hold him. Beside being beyond anything I thought he'd ever want from me, it was unlike holding anyone else I've ever known. Malcolm has a way of seeming to melt against me, as if he can't ever be close enough. And the first time our kiss deepened, the first time his lips parted at the touch of my tongue, all of my previous dreams of him just faded away, eclipsed by the reality of the man in my arms. All of my worries faded as well... though I know they're mostly banished, not resolved.  
  
But the night is a happy blur after that. What I have are moments, images that stayed with me: shivering at the first touch of his hands on the bare skin of my stomach... feeling him tremble as I stroked the length of his gorgeous heavy cock... lifting my head to meet his eyes as I took him deep into my mouth, tasting him for the first time.  
  
And there was another moment, with words I will never, _ever_ forget.  
  
 _'I want you in me, Jonathan... face to face, love... need you to fill me, to push deep inside me. I want you to be part of me the first time you come...'_  
  
My breath caught at all he was offering me... and all _Malcolm_ was wanting _from_ me. I saw so much love in his eyes, so much trust. There were no words for what I felt as I made love to him... and there still aren't. He fills my heart.  
  
This morning, when I finally did move, it was to lean down and kiss him very softly... on the back of his neck, just where his neck meets his shoulder. That kiss from him had touched me so deeply... I wanted to return it.  
  
His response was to sigh softly, sleepily... and to turn in my arms, slipping back into his place against my side, his head on my shoulder, murmuring very quietly.  
  
 _'My Jonathan... love you...'_  
  
His words touched my heart and made my breath catch to hear them... not only for their affirmation of love... but because those words, and his love, were for _me_.  
  
I only hope he realizes the kind of man it is that he loves.  
  
End log. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


####  **Big Sur, California, two weeks after returning to Earth**

We both needed to get away for a bit. The formal welcome ceremonies and the equally tedious debriefing sessions were taking a toll on all of us, but especially on Jonathan. The situation wasn't being improved by all of the publicity surrounding our return and the reality of being recognized nearly everywhere we went. When Admiral Forrest told Jonathan he needed to take some time away, I couldn't have agreed more strongly.

Jonathan chose the location. I don't know if he'd been there before, but it was a perfect choice -- remote enough to afford us the privacy we both craved, and a strenuous enough hike to burn off some of the accumulated tension and stress in physical exertion.

We'd spent every night together since our first, and I knew him well enough to realize that the euphoria of returning safely was wearing off, leaving him with all of the guilt and self-recrimination he'd been amassing all the while we were in the Expanse. At times it seemed as if he were trying to leave all of that part of himself outside our relationship, finding our bed to be a refuge, a way to forget... as Jon had done.

We didn't talk much as we hiked and climbed, and when we did, it pertained to the trip itself or to the beauty and solitude of the area we were hiking. I'd never seen much of California coast and was enjoying the rugged terrain and the glimpses we caught of the Pacific as we made our way to a simple campsite near the coastline. I think we both were drawn to surround ourselves with the outdoor sights and sounds and smells of Earth. I know I was seeing it with new eyes, knowing how near we'd come to losing it entirely.

Jonathan did take my hand from time to time, where the trail permitted us to walk side by side. I welcomed the contact, keeping my own worries to myself, hoping he'd choose to open up in his own way, in his own time.

__________________________________________

  
Sitting by a small campfire the first night out, we ate the last of the sandwiches we'd packed, laughing as we realized that we'd just left ourselves no choice but to cook. All we had to do that night was heat water for tea, which we managed well enough, so there was hope for us. I was surprised that open fires were permitted at all, but Jonathan said he'd picked this area specifically because we were allowed to have one. He told me he'd often gone camping with his father when he was growing up, and it just wouldn't feel right without a campfire.  
  
The air was cool after nightfall and there was a sea breeze, making the fire's warmth very welcome. We settled onto a blanket near the fire, sitting close together, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, enjoying that warmth and the flickering gold light cast by the flames. Without preamble, almost as if he were continuing a dialogue he'd been having with himself, Jonathan began to talk about how Daniels had 'reset' the timelines, enabling us to get home to Earth in our own century.  
  
"After he'd tried to explain what he was doing about getting us back to the right century, Daniels turned to look at me directly and asked if I had any regrets about being part of a merged timeline. He said he had thought the merger would be seamless... but then admitted that he hadn't counted on the relationships between _us_... between our counterparts in the two timelines... being out of sync with one another."  
  
I reached for his hand, wrapping my own around it, grateful that he wanted to talk about this, and wanting to give him as much reassurance as he needed or would accept from me. He paused at my touch, and for a moment I was almost afraid to hear the answer to the question I needed to ask.  
  
"How did you answer him?"  
  
"That I had no regrets for any of this... the successful mission, the safety of Earth and humanity's future... or for _this_... _us._.."  
  
He looked down at our joined hands and then raised his eyes to meet mine. They seemed to hold his heart.  
  
"This is where I belong. I've never been more certain of anything in my life. We were both given a second chance. This time is _ours_... we've made it our own... together."  
  
I nodded, relieved that he had no second thoughts, no regrets about us, about our being together. But there was something in his voice that made me suspect there was more he wanted to say. His thumb moved over mine, stroking slowly, and it took him some time to begin speaking again. When he did, he looked up toward the stars, his gaze fixed somewhere out there.  
  
"I've thought a lot about it since I answered Daniels that day. Maybe I oversimplified when I said I had no regrets. What about the Jon who died on Azati Prime... and the Malcolm who died on that other _Enterprise_ along with the rest of that crew?"  
  
He met my eyes again, turning toward me to take both of my hands in both of his.  
  
"Daniels told me that now that _this_ timestream is intact, it will be as if those other ones never existed... but he forgot something, again. They existed... you and I remember them."  
  
I nodded and squeezed his hands before leaning close to kiss him, a chaste kiss, a way to say I loved him and I understood. I moved into the circle of his arms and we sat quietly for long enough that the fire was in need of another log before either of us cared to move enough to tend it.  
  
"I'd better add a piece of wood, love, if we're going to sit out here for much longer. I'm warm enough with your arms wrapped around me, but I don't want you to get chilled."

__________________________________________

  
After taking care of the fire, I rummaged through Jonathan's pack for the wool shirt he was sure was in there somewhere. He slipped it on and pulled me close to him again as we settled back into the easy silence.  
  
I was comfortable enough that I didn't even move when he began to speak again. And maybe the way he was sitting mostly behind me made it easier for him to broach the subject. His voice was hesitant, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it at all.  
  
"Malcolm, you told me once... that you didn't know how to let go of him... of Jon. When you said that, there was such a sadness, such an emptiness in your voice. It was heartbreaking. All I wanted in that moment was to somehow ease that pain for you, but I couldn't. All I could do was give you space, and time for healing. Now I worry that I might have pushed..."  
  
I shook my head against his chest, murmuring a denial. "No... never that, Jonathan." He continued as if he hadn't heard me, or wasn't ready to believe it. Once he'd loosened the tight lid he'd kept on his fear, there was no stopping him from letting it all out.  
  
"... by telling you how I felt... in that log I left for you to find. When you found out that I hadn't died, you may have felt you should respond to that... should reciprocate somehow."  
  
He paused, collecting his thoughts or his courage to go on, and I didn't interrupt him. I'd wanted him to talk; I'd have to accept that there were things he needed to say. This had been a silence between us, something we'd set aside in our joy. Better to talk about it here... in this safe place together.  
  
"It hasn't been so long, really... since you lost him. I wouldn't expect you to have let go of a love like you two shared."  
  
I wanted to turn in his arms and bury my face against his chest, but he deserved the same honesty he'd just shown me. I settled for taking his hand in mine... holding it tightly as I replied.  
  
"I thought about that too... before your return. And you're right. I didn't know how to let go of him... and I still don't. But I realized something important – I don't need to, not completely. That love is part of my life... it brought me so much, made me change and grow. That's all part of me now. I didn't have to forget him to fall in love with you."  
  
I looked up at the night sky, suddenly reminded of the evening with Jonathan and Porthos in the observation lounge when we both had gazed out at the stars of the Expanse as we talked of futures... and dreams. With my eyes still on these much more familiar stars, I reminded him of that night.  
  
"I scarcely knew it was happening, until I saw that 'future' without you. I can still almost feel your hand on my arm when you reached over to reassure me, to share your hope. But I thought we'd have more time. I needed to be certain... and then all time ran out. It hurt like hell to know that I'd lost you without ever having had the courage to tell you."  
  
I turned in his arms then, needing to see his face, his eyes. But I kept hold of his hand as he replied, almost as a lifeline... for both of us.  
  
"I love you, Malcolm... _never_ doubt that. You are my life. I just don't know..."  
  
His voice dropped to a whisper so low I barely caught his words.  
  
"I don't know how you could love me... after all I've done..."

__________________________________________

  
I wanted so much to lay my fingertips over his lips and tell him it didn't matter, and to try to kiss away all of the doubt in his eyes. But we owed each other much more than that. I knew he needed to work through this, somehow, before he could begin to make any semblance of peace with himself, and before he could accept all I wanted to give him.  
  
So I kept my hand wrapped around his and kissed him gently, trying to reassure with both actions and words.  
  
"Jonathan... please know one thing. I _do_ love you... will always love you, no matter what. Nothing you tell me will change that. _Nothing_."  
  
He nodded and squeezed my hand, his voice none too steady as he continued.  
  
"I don't deserve that kind of love, Malcolm. If you knew..."  
  
Everything he'd been holding inside for so long broke free into his words. All I could do was return the squeeze of his hand as he collected himself to go on, to try to make me understand what he was feeling.  
  
"... if you knew all I've done... all the things that left people dead... the decisions that tossed aside every shred of morality I ever possessed. There were times I thought we were all going to die out there... and sometimes..."  
  
His voice sounded so bleak and had become so quiet that I wasn't sure I was catching all of his words.  
  
"But we didn't. And now I have to live with all of it. Then I have to listen to people praising me as some kind of fucking _hero_... while others are condemning me for not having committed genocide... for leaving any Xindi alive anywhere. Oh god, I'm so sorry, Malcolm... this wasn't supposed to be about all that..."  
  
I rubbed my thumb slowly across the hand I was holding, trying to calm without shutting down his torrent of thoughts.  
  
" _This_ is about anything that worries you, love. It's about all the guilt you've been carrying, all the regrets... and it's about sharing the burden of it with someone who loves you. I'm not going to judge you, Jonathan... and there's no _'deserving'_ in love. Jon taught... "  
  
I paused... I'd never talked much about him to Jonathan... but maybe it was time to leave that behind too. I'd just explained how that relationship was part of me, avoiding any mention of him just felt wrong.  
  
" _Jon_ taught me that... actually, he _told_ me that... and it took some time before I could completely believe it."  
  
He was very quiet, not really responding to anything I was saying. I lifted my free hand to his face, gently turning his head so I could meet his eyes.  
  
"I can only guess how hard this is. I ache for you, for what you're trying to come to terms with. I can only listen... but _please_... talk to me, love."  
  
He finally nodded, and in a gesture that made my heart nearly melt, he turned his head to kiss the palm of my hand that was still resting against his cheek. It took him some time to gather his thoughts, and when he did, he surprised me by taking a very different tack.  
  
"I told you once that I should have spoken to Malcolm... the Malcolm I first knew... after he rescued me from Rura Penthe. I knew there was something between us, something we both felt, that it wasn't just wishful dreaming on my part. I didn't tell him then, because I wanted to find the perfect moment. But after the attack on Earth, after we began the mission... the reason I didn't tell him was because I was very much afraid that he'd reject any overture from me."  
  
He'd dropped his gaze as he spoke of his other Malcolm, but lifted his eyes to meet mine again.  
  
"I did a lot of things, made a lot of choices that were pretty rough... on him, on me. Malcolm usually called me on them, made me really face what I was doing. I knew why he was doing that, but I didn't always like it... probably because I wished like hell that I had the option of agreeing with him.  
  
"Sometimes I argued with him, other times I brushed him off... once I even relieved him of duty. He had every right to despise me; I know how much I must have disappointed him... as his captain... and as a man."  
  
My first reaction was to shake my head in denial, but I remembered that this was Jonathan's perception... and was part of the weight he'd been carrying with him for months now. So I just squeezed his hand... hard... in silent acknowledgement.  
  
"But he was always there... throughout it all, he was there with me... _for_ me. There were moments when I wondered why _anyone_ would stand by me, especially Malcolm. I think I gave up the idea of ever telling him how I felt about him, certain that there was no way he could _ever_ love a man who did the things I was doing."  
  
Jonathan turned his hand to wrap it around mine and hold it tightly, looking directly into my eyes. In a moment, I felt like we'd been transported back into the Expanse. The last time I'd seen that kind of pain in his eyes was when he'd asked me if he was to blame for Degra's death.  
  
"I know I didn't have many alternatives to most of the things I regret the most. The stakes were too high to risk failure -- and my orders were to destroy that weapon and save Earth, _whatever it took_. And, worse yet, I know I'd probably make the same choices again, given the same situations and options. But I didn't even much _like_ myself, the way I'd become... how could I have asked him to _love_ me?  
  
Unwilling to let go of my hand, Jonathan unwrapped his other arm from around me and rubbed that hand across his eyes before he could continue.  
  
"How can I ask _you_ to love that man, Malcolm? Even now? If you knew half of what I did..."  
  
The tremble in his voice went straight to my heart. I couldn't be silently supportive any longer. I had to try to ease the pain in his eyes, and in his heart.  
  
Without releasing his hand, I shifted my position so we could sit face to face. I leaned in to kiss him very softly and took his other hand as well, holding both of his hands clasped between my own. I felt a tremble there, and still don't know if it was from him or me. I needed to make this very very clear.  
  
"Jonathan... listen to me. Don't forget... I _know_ what Jon did... all of it up until Azati Prime. There were a lot of parallel events between our timelines... so many times when he made the same decisions as you had to make. Yes, he did things I didn't like, but I _never_ stopped loving him, through it all. I didn't have to agree with the Captain's decisions... he never expected that of his Tactical Officer, just as you didn't. But he expected his orders to be obeyed... and I believe they always were... at whatever cost."  
  
I waited for some sign that he was hearing me. He finally nodded, replying quietly, "Yes, you're right... always were... even the last..."  
  
"Your last orders? That wasn't obedience, Jonathan. It was _trust._.. that you'd never lie to me. You told me you had no intention of dying there."  
  
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, hoping to shut out even the memory of those final minutes on the weapon... and my corresponding, and contrasting, last image of Jon's silent kiss before he left for Azati Prime, which had left me with so little hope for his safe return.  
  
"What I don't believe... _won't_ believe, of Jon _or_ you... is that any of this ever cost him his soul, or his humanity. And I _know_ it didn't cost him his heart. I held that safe for him. I always tried to protect it as best I could, just as his armoury officer swore to protect his Captain's life and ship."  
  
I paused then, trying to find the right words. He's always been the one with words, not me. But this was too important to me, to _us_ , not to get it right.  
  
"Jonathan, I'm the place you can always come home to... a constant reminder that you can still feel, you can love... you can regret. Throughout it all, I never lost Jon... until he died... and then I found _you_..."  
  
My own eyes were wet now, but it didn't matter... I was not going to let go of his hands for any reason right now.  
  
"... and I cannot bear to lose you now."  
  
He shook his head and reached out to touch my cheek with his fingertips.  
  
"You haven't Malcolm... I think you've helped find me..."

__________________________________________

  
Our campfire had burned down to embers by the time we began to undress each other. We pulled the sleeping bags out of the tent... both of us preferring to spend the night under the stars.  
  
As we'd simply held each other for a long time after words ran out, Jonathan had worried aloud about his ability to respond to me if we tried to do any more than that. He assured me that it would have nothing to do with how he felt about me, but only to do with his own tension and inability to relax. I stopped his pre-emptive apologies in the only way I could have done. I kissed him, and kissed him again, then whispered against his lips that I'd always be happy just to hold him, feel him close to me. Beyond that... we had a lifetime ahead of us to love each other.  
  
I undressed him slowly, covering his skin with kisses as I exposed it... his neck and shoulders, his chest and stomach. He sighed softly as I kissed my way down his neck, then moaned aloud as my mouth found a nipple and my hand threaded through his chest hair to find its mate, teasing it to hardness as well.  
  
Despite his fears, by the time I'd gotten his trousers unfastened, he was more than ready to be free of them. I nuzzled against the base of his erection, one hand caressing his hip and slipping beneath it to cup his ass. My breath caught at the strength of my own response when my cheek brushed against the smooth skin of his cock, feeling it hardening even more so at my touch. But I wanted this to be all for Jonathan... all about showing him how very much I loved and wanted and needed him, every part of him.  
  
After trailing wet kisses up the underside of his cock, and just before wrapping my lips around the head and taking him into my mouth, I heard him murmur my name in a low, throaty voice I'd never heard from him before.  
  
"Malcolm... _please_... need you..."  
  
I let him set the pace, taking my cues from the thrusts of his hips and the urgency in his voice as he moaned my name over and over. I'd thought we might take things slow and easy, but that wasn't what he needed and it wasn't long before his whole body shuddered as he came hard in my mouth. I held him there as he came down slowly, finally lifting my head and moving to cover his mouth with kisses and his body with my own.  
  
He reached between us and wrapped his hand around my cock as I began to rub myself against him. The warmth and strength of his hand as he matched my own rhythm took my breath away and made coherent words impossible. I rocked my hips against his and could feel myself shiver when his other hand moved to my ass. I couldn't last long either, especially when I heard his voice close to my ear, low and still breathy, urging me to come for him.  
  
There was nothing I wanted more,

__________________________________________

  
He finally slept. I should have been as deeply asleep as Jonathan, spooned as I was against his back, my arm around his waist, my cheek pressed against the warm skin of his shoulder. We were both exhausted, from the words, and the tears, and the loving.  
  
I didn't expect him to wake in the morning with no shadow of all he'd been trying to come to terms with. It would take time, but I had hope now that he'd begun to heal... and that we could work through the process together. As I told him at one point, I had demons of my own, regrets and guilt for some of my own decisions and actions. None of us came through the Expanse unscathed or unchanged.  
  
But we came this far through it together... we'd find the rest of the way home, together.  
  
Just before I fell asleep, I pressed a kiss onto his shoulder, near his neck. I knew he wasn't awake to know it, but it was important to me never to leave him, even to sleep, without telling him somehow that I loved him.

__________________________________________

  


####  **Along the Big Sur coast, two evenings later**

We sat on a rocky outcrop, looking out over the Pacific as the sun set it afire in oranges and reds only to quench it to violet and then to inky black when the stars came out. There were no wavelets lapping at a sandy beach. The surf was breaking on the rocks below us, but it was a steady, rhythmic sound. I welcomed it, each wave a reaffirmation of our survival.

I was sitting between his legs, his arms wrapped around me, his bent knees completing my shelter. As the last light faded, I took his hand and laid it over my heart, covering it with my own. We hadn't spoken much as we watched the sunset. We had little inclination and less need for words than for the intimate silence between us.

We'd been far from silent the night before, when we added our unmuffled moans and whimpers to the sounds of the surf, and two names were carried away on the sea breeze.

I honestly don't remember if the name he gasped was 'Mal' or 'Malcolm' when I wrapped my hand around his waiting erection. It took only a few strokes before I felt the spasms of his release in my hand and surrounding my own cock, buried deep inside him for the first time. And I have no idea what name I cried out as I came soon after that, my whole body trembling as I did. I did know with absolute certainty that the names didn't matter anymore.

It was another 'first-time' for us and the whole experience had been almost overwhelming from the moment he'd kissed me and whispered against my lips, asking if I'd ever wanted him that way. I returned the kiss, my body already aching for him.

I remembered how Jon had occasionally wanted me to fuck him, but usually it was in the shower, hot and hard and fast. It was always good, but I knew that wasn’t what Jonathan was asking. I could hear in his voice that this meant more to him than hot sex.

His next words confirmed that. "I keep imagining how good it would feel... just to let go and feel you take me... touching me everywhere." He wanted this for us because he wanted me to have _all_ of him... including all the facets of Jonathan that don't show on the surface.

His request touched me so deeply... this relationship was already following it's own path, different in many ways from my relationship with Jon. I murmured my response against his lips as well, keeping it very simple.

"Jonathan, yes... want you so much. _All_ of you..."

__________________________________________

  
So we sit quietly, pointing out the familiar stars to each other, knowing we have to return to the world tomorrow morning. But I know we're stronger now than we were before. Both of us.  
  
Whatever happens, we'll get through it together. He'll have me by his side, loving him and knowing how much he loves me. That's what matters most to us now. Of course we both have our memories; they'll always be with us.  
  
But this is _our_ time.


End file.
